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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435286">Forty First Floor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo'>NachoDiablo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sam Wilson Bingo [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Powers, Love Confessions, M/M, Trapped In Elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:41:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wants to talk. Sam wants to forget.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sam Wilson Bingo [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046332</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sam Wilson Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Forty First Floor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Sam Wilson Bingo square, "Forty First Floor!"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sam was in no rush to get to his afternoon meeting. He didn’t even need to be there, but Rhodey had asked him to sit in, in case the client had a question. Sam didn’t care for this particular client, or any client to be honest, which is why he stayed on the development side of things. But he did like Rhodey, so he agreed to attend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since he wasn’t in a rush, he didn’t mind when the elevator stopped at the next floor up. It was a long way to go til the forty second floor, and it would be nice to have some company and chit chat as he made his way up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He immediately changed his mind when the doors opened and Steve Rogers stepped into the elevator. The smile froze on Sam’s face as Steve nodded in greeting and flashed a shy smile of his own. He pressed a button-- forty second floor, damn it-- then turned towards Sam. His mouth opened and horror iced through Sam’s veins. He didn’t want to hear what Steve had to say to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not after what went down on New Years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam pretended to startle, then pulled his phone out of his pocket as though a text had vibrated. He stared intently at his screen as he typed out random letters and emojis and sent them to Natasha. Nat was a good friend, and they’d had each others’ backs through too much weird shit for her to question Sam later when she opened her texts and saw endless nonsense.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The seconds ticked by as the elevator creeped upwards at a rate that felt far slower than usual. Sam heard Steve clear his throat, but he kept his eyes glued to his phone screen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heat flooded Sam’s cheeks. Resigned to his fate, he locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He looked expectantly at Steve, trying to keep his expression neutral even though his heart was pounding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grinned and waved. “Hi, Sam.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Steve,” Sam replied helplessly. Steve was all broad shoulders and rugged beard, but he looked like a dorky kid as he ducked his head and peered at Sam from under long lashes. Sam couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, even as dread sloshed in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Steve said. “But I haven’t seen you since New Years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those last two words made Sam ache with embarrassment. Steve seemed unconcerned as he took a step closer. Sam hastily riffled through his brain for a change of subject. Something, anything, that would distract Steve from continuing down the road of what happened the last night they’d talked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night had started off well, oddly enough. The company threw a party two nights before New Year’s Eve. Open bar, karaoke, crab cakes, all around good times to be had by all. Sam had even relaxed enough to flirt more openly with Steve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been circling each other for months, ever since Steve had first transferred to the home office and Sam had found him wandering the halls in search of HR. They’d become fast friends, with each of them taking turns upping the flirty factor, though neither of them had yet been brave enough to cross the line into something more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that evening at the party, the perfect amount of gin and tonic was coursing through Sam’s veins to make a move. And he was even able to be smooth about it. So smooth, in fact, that he’d found himself in the bathroom, shoved up against the wall with Steve on his knees in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That part was fine. More than fine, it had been one hell of a blow job. But it also wasn’t anything to be stressed about. Office party hookups happened and could be easily brushed off and forgotten.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What had happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>after,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sam would never live down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alarmed, Sam realized that Steve looked poised to continue talking, so he blurted out, “What time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked confused. His eyes glanced down at Sam’s wrist. “Is your watch not working?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s broken,” Sam lied. “I’m just wearing it for style.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Sam figured he knew better than to argue about style. Steve had been lovingly dragged by enough coworkers on his abysmal tie and shirt coordinating skills. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked at his own watch, but before he could give Sam the time, the elevator jolted to a halt. Sam slammed against the wall, then lurched back and smacked into Steve’s chest. Strong arms circled him as the elevator stilled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apologies,” the accented voice of the building’s AI called through the intercom. “It seems the elevator is stuck, Maintenance has been alerted, and it appears that all safety guards are functioning. You are in no danger, and the elevator is expected to be back in working order shortly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Steve said, just as polite as though he’d been talking to a real person rather than a machine. He nodded above the door, where </span>
  <em>
    <span>41</span>
  </em>
  <span> flashed in red lights. “One floor away, huh? Damn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Sam said. “Gets me off the hook for Jim’s meeting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve chuckled, and it dawned on Sam that he was still entwined in Steve’s arms. He froze, knowing he should push away, but reluctant to leave the firm comfort of Steve’s chest and the steady thrum of his heart under Sam’s palms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve cleared his throat. “Well, since we’re here, could we talk? About what you said, at the New Years party. You never gave me a chance to reply.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sam cringed. He had vowed to never again think about what he’d said to Steve, those traitorous words that had slipped from his lips, loosened by passion but honest all the same. Too honest. He'd immediately fled the scene after, but he should have known that Steve wouldn't let him escape forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked down to avoid Steve’s eyes, but Steve moved one hand to cup Sam’s cheek and guide his face so their eyes could meet. The warmth from Steve’s smile flowed through Sam’s limbs, and his heart bloomed with hope as Steve leaned in and rested their foreheads together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam,” he whispered. “I love you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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